Insert a Little Chaos
by xChaotic.AnarchyX
Summary: When the Joker gets a fan he didn't expect, things are interesting. But after a new doctor at Arkham catches his attention, not even he can predict what happens next. Nolanverse, character death. JokerRachel - JokerHarley
1. The Lawyer and the Maniac

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in this fic except Joker's minions, which are of my own creation and are only there to help further the plot so that Joker doesn't have to do everything by himself. This is a fic set in the Nolanverse post-Dark Knight. Thanks for reading.**

His face had followed her everytime she closed her eyes since the night at the party. She found it hard to believe the lengths that she had gone to just to get his image out of her mind. The acid green hair that was fading to blond, the white, black, and red make up that covered his face, the strangely interesting purple clothes... Why was it that she couldn't get him out of her mind?! She thought it was thanks to the fact that no one could catch him, that he was a challenge. But, deep down, she knew that wasn't true. She knew the extent of her infatuation with him pushed past the boundaries of competitve desire. No, her infautation for him stemmed from something... deeper. Something she wasn't sure how to deal with. And, naturally, human curiostiy knew no bounds, so she had to find him, had to seek him out...

"Rachel Dawes. I'm here to see the Joker."

Her black heels had clicked incessantly on the tiled floor of the facility. She held her state identification card to the secretary, who stared at it in surprise. The older woman looked back at the brunette lawyer and then looked at the ID card. She faltered, turning her eyes away.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Dawes. No one excpet the doctors and his lawyers are allowed to see the Joker," she said, genuine feeling in her voice as she apologized. Rachel sighed, putting her ID back on her black pinstripe jacket covering the red blouse. She leaned forward, watching the woman from behind the protective blouse carefully.

"I know. But I'm the lawyer who is going to be prosecuting him in court. I have the right to see him as well. If you do not let me see him, I will press charges against you for obstruction. Are we understood?" Rachel's voice had dropped to a threatening whisper. The secretary looked up, baffled, and then nodded, passing Rachel a clipboard.

"Very well, Counselor. Sign in there and go through that entrance. The guard will need to make sure you're not carrying any weapons," she said. Rachel stood back up, smoothing out the black matching pencil skirt before she signed her name on the clipboard and walked to the security checkpoint. Like she'd be carrying any weapons. One, the Joker was an intimidating force to be reckoned with. Two, there was a reason he was in Arkham. Three, she most definitely didn't want to hurt him... The guards checked her and then let her go through, one of them leading her to the secure room.

Rachel busied herself with pulling out papers for his case, getting information ready so that she could keep her hands ready. After all this time preparing a legitamate reason to be there to see him... She was trying to keep her hands from shaking, trying to prevent herself from doing something embarassing for the guards to watch from the other side of the two-way mirror. She wasn't stupid; this was a high-profile criminal. There was no way she'd be able to conduct business with him alone, without being watched. Hopefully, they'd see after a few minutes that he wasn't going to do anything to her. She most certainly wasn't going to do anything to him...

"Hello, beautiful."

That voice sent a chill down her spine as she lifted her eyes, watching as the guards brought the tall man into the room. Still tall and lean, he was wrapped in a straight jacket, forced into the white Arkham uniforms most of the convicts wore. The guard shoved him down and stood in a corner. Rachel took her eyes off the Joker and looked at the guard, shaking her head.

"What I need to speak with him about is confidential and important to his case. You need to leave the room," she stated. The guard's eyes narrowed, but he knew better than to argue with a lawyer. He strapped the Joker to the chair, making sure the bolts in the chair kept the man to the floor like they were supposed to. Then, he left. Joker said nothing for a minute before tilting his head.

"What is it you came to say...?" he asked. Rachel directed her eyes to him, wondering the same thing. She had nothing to say about his case. She wasn't even supposed to come and see him without his lawyer present. But, she wanted to...

"There are some specifics I need to go over with you about your case," she started, only to be interrupted by a high-pitch cackle from the man in front of her. She looked up curiously, watching him with surprise in her eyes.

"Don't lie to me, Counselor," he drawled, watching her. He had some of his makeup on, but it was smeared, as though it had been on for too long. "Whose side are you on, anyway?" Rachel felt herself start to blush, but she fought it. Damn him, he would not humiliate her completely.

"You are aware you're accused of terrorism? The penalty is life without parole. You can also be put to death," she said, watching him. He didn't seem that interested. She thought of a different tactic.

"This doesn't bother you at all, does it...?"

"Why should it? I have no regrets about what I did."

Rachel paused, listening. She glanced at the mirror, calculating how it was she could say what she wanted to say without them hearing her.

"I want to help you."

Joker looked at her, watching her as she said it. The buffoons on the other side of the mirror wouldn't be able to see her eyes, how she was saying one thing and meaning quite another. He watched her for a minute before grinning.

"Alright, Miss Dawes. How do you want to help me?"

He was toying with her, but that didn't seem to register to the assistant district attorney. Good. How long could he string her along before she'd finally snap...?

"Anyway I can."

"Resolve. I like it." He leaned back in his chair, the very image of comfort and relaxed, though he still seemed deadly. The straight jacket and other restraints couldn't take away the natural danger. And it drew her like a moth to a flame. "What is it you think you can do to help me?"

She forced herself to look at him, to meet his eyes. She wanted to look away, to stammer that she didn't know, but... she couldn't do it. She kept her resolve steady, holding her face with determination to keep his eyes on her. Her voice dropped.

"I have free reign through Gotham. I have access to files, papers, cases, can get you into any building in Gotham. I plan to do whatever it is I can," she said. The Joker watched her, one eyebrow raised before he moved his lips slightly, pondering what it was that he wanted from her. She did bring up a valid point... Besides, he had never corrupted an Assistant District Attorney - well, she'd now be a District Attorney now, wouldn't she? - without really meaning to. He leaned forward, as much as he could through the restraints holding him in place.

"Alright, I'll... consider your offer, Counselor," he said, his voice a lazy drawl. He watched her for a minute, dark eyes intense. "And you'll have to see about getting a real private room to talk to me in. I don't like being overheard."

His voice had dropped to a menacing tone, the same one he used when he had told the man at the party that he hated his father. With a jerk of his head, the Joker stopped talking, no longer even looking at Rachel. The guards came in, unstrapping him from the bolted chair and lifting him to his feet. Rachel stared straight ahead as he walked past, doing her best to not look at his grinning face. After the door to the room slammed closed, she let her shoulders slump as she exhaled loudly. That silence had been the hardest for her to bear, harder than waiting for jury deliberation to end. She smiled, putting the files she hadn't needed to bring into her briefcase and walking out of the room, signing out on the signout sheet before making her way back to her car, heading home to congratulate herself on her "victory".


	2. The Shrink and the Botanist

**Alright, so I finally gave in and got a word processing document on my laptop... other than Word Pad and Notepad. So, yeah. Spelling and grammatical errors should slow down or stop... I hope. Anyway. Insert disclaimer here.**

A sigh of exhaustion escaped the blond's lips. She had been working so hard on this damned presentation, only to find out she didn't even have to do it anymore. Her patient, Selina Kyle, had been murdered by her cell mate, a person that Harleen had never actually met. She ran one hand through the thick curtain of blond hair as she clicked the delete button on her laptop. The computer popped up with a soft ding, asking her if she was sure.

_If only all decisions in life came with this question..._ she thought silently as she clicked Yes. The computer dinged again to let her know that the file was successfully deleted. She leaned back in her chair and her eyes fell on the thick manila envelope recently put on her desk. Dr. Montgomery, the current Head of Arkham Asylum for the Criminally Insane had come personally to deliver it to the woman herself. The brunette had dropped it on Harleen's desk without even so much as a 'hello, how are ya?'.

"Dr. Quinzel, your new patient," she said, brown eyes boring into Harleen's bright blue eyes.

"But... I had Miss Kyle-"

"She's dead. Her cell mate took care of her this morning." That was one of the most reliable things about Doctor Montgomery; she was a cold-hearted bitch, who barely showed any concern for the patients under her care. Harleen groaned under her breath before looking at the doctor.

"Who?"

"The Joker. Welcome to the real world, Quinzel."

And with that, Dr. Harleen Quinzel, who had been here a grand total of six months, found herself with a brand new, high profile, extremely deadly patient.

Three brief knocks and the creak of her door opening distracted her. She smiled, however, as she saw the familiar head of flaming red hair poking its way into her doorway.

"Harleen, are we going out for lunch, or are you going to sit here and let the lack of decent sunlight wilt you?"

The husky, rich voice of Dr. Pamela Isley caused Harleen to grin. She grabbed the black purse from her locked, bottom desk drawer and stood up, wrapping her arms around Pam, smiling.

"Of course we're going. Sorry, Red. I got a new patient today," Harleen said. Pam wisely refrained from her questions until after the two women had left the Asylum and were in Pam's little green Hybrid car.

"What patient?"

Pamela Isley had met Harleen Quinzel at a supermarket, interestingly enough, where the two of them were about to grab the last bottle of soy milk. Harleen liked it because it was different. At first, Harleen had no idea why this beautiful redhead would possibly be drinking soy milk. Harleen had let Pamela have it, but the woman had a different idea. Pamela bought it, but also bought a bag of plastic cups, and the two went outside, sitting on the hood of Harleen's red Mustang and drank the milk together, proceeding to sit and talk to one another. Harleen found out that Pam, or Red, was a doctor studying the use of plants to cure diseases, such as the common cold and cancer. Thanks to this research, she had grown a strange attachment to the plants, which had caused her to go completely vegan, swearing off all meats and vegetables. She stuck with mostly tofu, but it worked for her. Harleen told her new friend that she had gone to school to become a criminal psychologist, and got her dream. She explained to Red that she had gotten a job at Arkham Asylum to complete her degree, working there as an intern. She managed to get her first case, that of Catwoman, Selina Kyle.

"Oh," Harleen said, having spaced out for a minute there.

"And what happened to Catwoman?"

"Selina died this morning. Apparently her cell mate did it," Harleen said. She had never particularly liked Selina Kyle, but she had grown attached to her first case. Both doctors paused for a moment in silence as they continued to drive, making a left at the light and heading to the only vegan place they really knew of. It was a little soup shop that knew Pam and Harleen by face.

"Anyway... Dr. Cold Hard Bitch came in this morning, drops a file on my desk and says, "Welcome to the real world, Quinzel."" Harleen grinned at Pam as she mimicked the doctor's voice. "I have the Joker."

Pam hit the brakes so hard the tires squealed. The little car jerked to a halt as Pamela whipped her head around to look at her friend.

"What?! Is she out of her goddamn mind?!" Pam snapped, watching as Harleen struggled to prevent her seatbelt from strangling her. She unbuckled it, let it slide back in the track, and buckled it again.

"Red, I can do it," Harleen said, hating how her voice took on a pleading tone as she said it. Pam kept an angry look as she let off the brake and pulled back into traffic, keeping her eyes on the road, both hands on the wheel.

"It's not you I doubt, Blondie," Pam said, clearly speaking from between clenched teeth. Harleen decided it was probably best not to say anything about the subject for a little while longer.

"Holy, shit. Did someone die?"

These words were what broke the ice between Harleen and Pam. The two doctors pulled into the deli, surprised to see the flood of cars and people at the usually deserted deli. Red watched closely, practically flooring it to get into a free parking spot before some old lady took it. She whipped the tiny Hybrid into the parking spot, and the two got out of the car, making their way into the deli. They were greeted at the door by Samantha, the owner's wife.

"Pam! Harleen! It's so nice to see the two of you again!" she said, hugging them both.

"Hi, Samantha..." Harleen said softly, smiling. Pam hugged her back and kept the woman close as they made their way to the front.

"What's going on?" Pam asked. Samantha smiled, but spoke out the corner of her mouth.

"Bruce Wayne showed up here. The press has been all over him since he walked in the door," she said. Pam made a face, but Harleen looked around curiously. She had heard of the millionaire and his multiple donations to Arkham Asylum, but she never expected to meet him. But, alas, there he was! Harleen nudged Pam silently, nodding toward the brunette millionaire. Pam raised an eyebrow, looking at him, thoroughly unimpressed. She looked at Harleen, her expression that of a long-suffering woman, and it made Harleen laugh out loud. This caught the attention of Mr. Wayne, and he turned, raising an eyebrow in surprise at the sound. Harleen put her hand over her mouth to stifle her giggles, but it was too late. She had been caught. Pam muttered under her breath, hating the press for the way they made her seem like a lunatic every time they interviewed her. It was too late to make a break for it, so the two women stood there, Samantha having already disappeared, as Bruce Wayne made his way over.

"Hello, ladies. Dr. Isley, did you get the last donation Wayne Enterprises sent to you?" he asked. Pam sighed softly, putting on a kind smile, though Harleen could tell there was ice behind the kind gesture.

"I did, Mister Wayne, and I really appreciate it," she said, eyes cold even as her words were sweet. Bruce smiled, his eyes showing that he sensed the ice too. He turned his gaze to Harleen, who met his eyes with her bright blue ones.

"I don't believe we've met," he said, offering a hand. "I'm Bru-"

"Like there's a person alive today in Gotham who doesn't know who you are," Pam muttered under her breath, pretending to look at the menu. Harleen, who seemed to always be laughing at the wrong time, bit her full lower lip hard to prevent from laughing now.

"I'm Dr. Harleen Quinzel," she said, shaking Bruce Wayne's hand.

"Dr. Quinzel, it's a pleasure to meet you. What is your specialty?" he asked. Harleen blinked and tried to look at Red, but the woman wouldn't meet her gaze.

"Um... I work at Arkham," Harleen said, watching Bruce. He raised an eyebrow in surprise and smiled at her.

"Ah, really? That's very interesting. I'm very interested in your work, Dr. Quinzel. Tell me, who is your patient?" he asked, his face showing his genuine interest, though Harleen thought it was genuine for another reason. Before Harleen could speak, Pam stepped in front of her, turning a cold glare to the millionaire.

"That's confidential, Mr. Wayne, and I think you know that. Now, I think we'll be leaving." She turned her head to Samantha and raised her voice. "Sorry, Samantha. We'll be back later to get some food, alright?" she said. Samantha looked amused toward them, but nodded. Pam then took Harleen outside and got back into the Hybrid, stopping at Arby's, through the Drive-Thru, to get them something to eat, though Pam didn't actually eat anything. Then, she dropped Harleen back off at Arkham and just said she would call the blond later.

Harleen finished off her chocolate shake, picked up the Joker's file, and started to get comfortable with the idea of her new patient in her desk, wondering exactly what was wrong with Pam.

By six o'clock that night, Harleen had gone through the entire, extensive file on the Joker twice, trying to memorize as much as she possibly could. The charges against him were extensive, everything from capital murder and treason to little things like jaywalking and running a red light. Driving her Mustang home, Harleen was honestly surprised that his lawyer hadn't flipped out on the police about the charges. Harleen wasn't a lawyer, but being around Arkham did manage to get you to understand some of the procedures to sentencing someone.

_Capital murder, first-degree murder, mass murder, treason, trespassing, jaywalking, impersonating a police officer, blackmail, extortion, embezzling, aggravated assault, grand theft auto... What are these people planning to do?_

Even Harleen knew that these were... extensive, if not absurd. She pulled into the parking lot of the cozy little apartment complex she lived in and turned off the car, grabbing her briefcase and purse, the Joker's file tucked away securely in the knock-off designer briefcase. She flipped through her keys, finding her mailbox key, and checked her mail, flipping through bills as she made her way up the stairs. Once in front of her apartment, 2C, Harleen opened the door, tossing her keys on the table, kicking the door closed behind her with one foot. She turned, dropping the mail in a dish by the door and locking her door back. She absently flipped on the light, then made her way into the room, pressing a button on her answering machine.

_"Good evening. You have... two new messages. Message one."_

Harleen listened to the message from Dr. Montgomery, telling her to be there bright and early in the morning to conduct her first interview with Joker. She erased it, pulling off the jacket and tossing it on the couch.

_"Message erased. Message two."_

Harleen paused as she heard Red's voice over the speaker. A frown caused her to sit down next to the answering machine, listening as Red apologized and told her that they would have to cancel their lunch tomorrow. It was one of their few traditions that was never broken.

"_Message erased. End of messages."_

Harleen sighed and kicked off her shoes, walking into her bedroom and falling onto the bed, staring at the ceiling before rolling over to set her alarm clock for an earlier time. Then, she stood up, making her way to the shower.

Unknown to Harleen, tomorrow was the day her life really began...

A/N: So... that's chapter two. It's so different from chapter one, but I think it came out... alright. Next chapter, you get to see how the Joker likes his new shrink.

Word Count: 2026


	3. The Shrink and the Maniac

Harleen awoke to the sound of her alarm clock blaring angrily at her. She rolled over with a groan, smacking the snooze button before lying on her back, staring up at the ceiling again. She finally sat up, reaching up to gently undo the plait of her braid, allowing her blond hair to drop to her back, the tresses falling in thick waves. She stood up, pushing her dark red comforter off of her body and making her way into the bathroom, going through her morning ritual. She brushed her teeth, applied enough makeup to accentuate her natural facial features only and then ran a brush through her hair. She toyed with the idea of leaving it down, framing her face, the waves giving her a more seductive visage before she rolled her eyes at herself, pulling her hair back into a tight ponytail before wrapping the rest of her hair into a tight bun.

Making her way back into her bedroom, Harleen walked to the closet, looking in. She didn't know a whole lot about her new patient, but what she did know detailed that it was probably best to stay on his good side. He'd been through at least seven doctors since he came in, three of which quit before he could kill them. The guards didn't actually know how it was that he was capable of actually killing them when he was tied in a straight jacket and bolted to the floor, with himself strapped to a chair, but he still managed it.

Reaching into the closet, she grabbed a pair of black dress slacks and a long-sleeve white blouse. A black jacket completed the look. The entire process didn't take quite as long as Harleen thought it did, and she even had time to get an apple for breakfast before she grabbed her keys and purse and headed out to her Mustang, not quite as ready as she would have liked to be for meeting the Joker.

After walking into the office, signing in, clocking in, blah blah blah, Harleen stopped by her office to get a bottle of water out of her mini-fridge and to grab the questionnaire she knew by heart, but was supposed to have present to fill out as she interviewed her new patient. She had the Joker's case file under one arm, a bottle of water in her other hand, and felt like she really could get a successful interview out of the so-called maniac. It wasn't that she thought he was a completely sane individual, but it was her job to actually determine whether or not he was insane, and it wasn't any good to go in with preconceived notions of everyone in there being a complete lunatic. So, with her shoulders braced and her head held high, Harleen entered the small room where she would be interviewing the man who had terrorized Gotham mercilessly.

When Harleen entered the room, there was a small table set up, one of those plastic kind with the gray plastic legs and the white top. The top of it was _supposed_ to be white, anyway, but it had been used so much and not washed that it was more of an off-white color. The janitors at Arkham apparently _really_ hated their job. Sitting in the metal chair that was bolted to the floor with a straight jacket holding his arms to his body, was a man with stringy, acid green hair. His face had been scrubbed free of the makeup that he usually wore, and when the guard closed the door behind Harleen with a loud bang, he didn't jump. He didn't even move for a moment before he raised his head slowly, a smirk twisting his features. Rather than shrinking away from the gruesome scars curving his mouth upward in a permanent smile, Harleen merely looked at him, blue eyes examining him silently behind the glasses she wore. She sat in the chair, saying nothing for a moment, pulling it up to the table and setting his file down. She also sat the half-empty water bottle next to her on the table, seeming to arrange everything. It was as much a habit to calm herself down as it was to see if he would start the conversation or anything. He didn't, which meant it was up to Harleen.

"Mister Joker-" she started, only to be interrupted by his voice, the dark undertones causing goosebumps to rise on her flesh and her to look up, meeting dark eyes with her bright blue ones.

"Call me Joker. Mister Joker was my father."

The joke was an old one, and Harleen felt herself start to smile. Instead of squashing the urge, she allowed a small smile to crack her features even as he giggled at his own joke.

"Alright, Joker. I'm Dr. Quinzel, and I'll be your new doctor," she said. Joker just watched her, mild amusement lurking on his features, though his eyes held an intelligence that really astounded Harleen. She wasn't expecting him to look so... sane, she supposed. She snapped herself out of these thoughts and looked at the paper in front of her, gathering her bearings.

"Now, I know that you've done several interviews with other doctors. I am going to try to stray away from the typical approach that most of the other doctors take and we'll see what we get from that, alright? So, instead of beginning with your past and your family, let's start with something more recent. I'm sure you remember the incident concerning the funeral for Commissioner Loeb...?" Unlike most serial killers, the Joker didn't smirk or show any pride in what he had done. He simply watched Harleen, his expression unreadable. Harleen fought back the urge to shift, to show that she was uncomfortable by his silence.

"Joker, I'm going to need your full coo-"

"What's your first name, doctor?"

Harleen's eyes moved to him, unable to hide the surprise at his sudden question there. Her expression became guarded, if not curious.

"Harleen."

"Ahh... An unusual name... Why were you named that?"

Harleen watched the Joker curiously, wondering if he was simply curious about her or trying to shift the tables, like Dr. Hannibal Lecter did with Clarice in _The Silence of the Lambs_. For now, she could afford to play along with his games...

"My mother was fond of unusual names. She and her family had common names, and she wanted something different for her children," she said. Joker nodded once, licking his lips as he leaned forward slightly, not threateningly, just to make sure she was paying attention. Harleen couldn't have ignored him if she wanted to.

"And do you have any siblings, Harleen...?"

"A younger sister. And I think it would be best if you called me Dr. Qui-"

The next instant, the Joker was literally lunging at her, his hands out of the straight jacket, his thin, limber body out of the straps holding him to the chair. His hand was wrapped around her throat, though he wasn't putting any pressure on her. Just holding her there. Her papers went flying, landing on the floor, and she had no idea where the water bottle was.

"I will call you what I want to," he purred, leaning into her ear as the guards struggled to get the door open before he killed another doctor. The words he purred into her ear next would give Harleen chills for the next few days.

"Wear your hair down for our next meeting, Harleen..."

The guards managed to get in and roughly grabbed the Joker, pulling him off Harleen with such force that he slammed into the chair. Instead of the usual reactions to pain – shock, gasping in surprise, etc. - the Joker merely began laughing, his high pitch cackles echoing in the small confines of the room, and then down the hall as they took him to his cell. Shocked, but still having some sort of notion of what it was she was doing, Harleen stared after him for a moment before grabbing her papers and locating her water bottle. She straightened herself, pushing back a stray strand of blond hair that had managed to wiggle itself loose when he lunged at her. She then made her way out of the cell and into her office, moving with purpose. She had a phone call to make...

"No, Red, I know... Red I-" Harleen sighed as she tried to find a pause in her best friend's ramblings, wanting to find a break so that she could explain herself. The other doctor was practically yelling, cursing the idiocy of the guards for giving that maniac – in Pam's words – the chance to hurt Harleen, and for not staying in the room with them. She paused to take a break and Harleen jumped in.

"Red, I know you're worried, and I'm happy that you are, but calm down. Everything's fine. There isn't even so much as a bruise where he was holding me. Now, the guards couldn't be in there. It violates the rights of privacy that a psychiatric patient has with his or her doctor. I just wanted to let you know so that you didn't find out from someone else hanging out around here and then try to strangle me yourself."

A pause greeted Harleen before Pam spoke again.

"I know, Harleen, but you're taking this really well for someone who could have ended up like every other doctor that has had the guts or ambition to enter a cell with him. I'm just saying that the assholes working above you should have the intelligence to know better than to leave you, or any other doctor, in a cell with that murdering psychopath."

"Red, you're incredibly sweet to think of me like this, and I appreciate it. Now, about lunch today..."

"Ah, shit. Sorry, Harleen. I forgot to tell you. I'm finally getting a chance to present my case to the Board, and they decided they want to do it over lunch..."

Harleen's eyes widened and she straightened in her chair.

"Really, Pammy? That's amazing! Good luck, okay? And hey, I can get lunch on my own. I did it for years before I met you, after all," Harleen teased. Pam's rich laughter was all Harleen needed.

"Good luck at your meeting and I'll call you tonight, alright? Have fun. Bye, Red."

After Pam replied with a goodbye of her own, Harleen hung up and looked thoughtfully at her purse. She had expected the meeting with the Joker to be a little longer than it was, and she didn't have that much paperwork left to do... She could do it once she got back from lunch. Picking up her purse and keys, Harleen locked her office and headed out the door, heading off to an early lunch.

Harleen thanked the waiter as he handed her the salad and looked out at the parking lot. It was a beautiful day, so Harleen had opted to sit on the outdoor patio of the slightly higher-class restaurant she decided to go to for lunch. Sure, it was probably more than she should be spending, but something just told her that she should be there today. So, pouring a generous amount of the Italian dressing over her salad, Harleen put her napkin in her lap and began to eat, carefully making sure that not one drop of dressing or food dropped onto her outfit.

"Dr. Quinzel."

The voice was unfamiliar and Harleen was sure she wasn't _that_ easily recognizable, so she blinked, dropping the fork in surprise, blushing faintly as it clanged loudly off the plate and onto the table. She looked up, curious blue eyes landing on the familiar face of a certain rich man she had met just the day before.

"Oh, Mr. Wayne!" she said, smiling as she moved her hand, silently offering for him to join her. He did so, sitting across from her at the table. Before either one of them could say another word, the waiter was up, taking the billionaire's order. Bruce merely ordered a glass of water and then asked the waiter to leave. Harleen blinked, looking at the salad in front of her before meeting his gaze again.

"Aren't you hungry, Mr. Wayne?" she asked. Bruce smiled, waving his hand slightly.

"Please, call me Bruce. No, I'm not. I already ate. I was on my way out when I saw you," he said. Harleen nodded, taking another bite of her salad as the waiter came back with Bruce's water. Harleen had barely swallowed what was in her mouth when she noticed the man in front of her was discreetly looking around the restaurant. Something protective flared up in her and she met his gaze with a cool look.

"Pam isn't here, if you're looking for her," she said. Bruce had the dignity to look embarrassed and ducked his head.

"I'm sorry, that was rude of me. I had the feeling she didn't like me after our meeting yesterday," he said. Harleen couldn't help but feel bad. She smiled faintly, shaking her head.

"Pam is just protective of me, that's all. She's been a very good friend to me. She just doesn't want anything bad to happen," she explained. Bruce smiled and looked as though he was about to say something when someone or something over Harleen's head caught his attention. He sighed softly.

"Duty calls, Dr. Quinzel, but I would really like to get to know you better. Is there a way I could get a hold of you...?" he asked. Harleen smiled, reaching into her purse and pulling out her business card, passing it to him. He pocketed the card with a smile before standing.

"It was a pleasure talking to you, Dr. Quinzel. I'll be sure to call you soon." He gave her a smile before walking out of Harleen's line of vision. She shook her head, finishing off her salad as a man walked up. This one was in fancier dress than most people in the restaurant, and definitely wasn't a waiter.

"Good afternoon, Dr. Quinzel. I'm Alfonso, the manager. Mister Wayne paid your tip and left this for you," he said, passing her a small card. He then bowed his head to her and left her alone, leaving Harleen to stare at the business card. She flipped it over curiously, wondering if he had written something on the back like they did in movies sometimes. Sure enough, in rather nice handwriting, was a note.

_Call me whenever you want._

_-BW_

Harleen laughed softly, sliding the card into a pocket in her purse before standing, making her way to the door with a knowing little smile on her face.

_**AN: So... that's pretty much it for this chapter. For those of you who are wondering about the Joker's behavior, this isn't strictly Nolanverse Joker. He's kind of a mix between Heath Ledger Joker, Jack Nicholson Joker, and the Joker in the comics/animated TV series. So... yeah. That's what he's all about. There. All done now.**_


	4. The Lawyer and the Shrink

Over the next few days, Harleen was put into meeting after meeting, learning what she could from Joker's previous doctors, lawyers, and the Major Crimes Unit from Gotham Police Department. For whatever reason, Commissioner Jim Gordon wasn't willing to talk to her, and neither was a man that she couldn't even fathom how to begin to locate, and that was the Batman. She wanted to know about his run-ins with the Joker so that she could find out about how Joker was when Batman interacted with him.

Even more than that, she had kept rather long phone conversations with her latest interest, Bruce Wayne. At first, it was very casual. She got home the night Joker attacked her, and had called him. An older sounding man had answered on the second ring, telling her that she had called Wayne Manor. She politely introduced herself and asked if Bruce was in, blushing when she realized she felt like she had in high school when she had called her crush. Then, she had blushed even harder, but didn't have time to lament on this one as she heard his voice on the phone.

"Hello, Dr. Quinzel. I'm so happy you called."

After that, they spent a few minutes talking, mainly just about their day and what they planned on doing the next day. It was very casual, very laid back, and it helped Harleen to clear her mind to get a fresh start and a fresh idea on what it was that she wanted to do about the Joker.

Of course, in a story such as this, one can't forget another key player. Rachel had been busy for the last few days too. The lawyer had been looking up ways to help Joker, discreetly pulling up a list of the known accomplices to Joker, and, more importantly, had been pulling up the original blueprints to Arkham. When she was asked why she wanted them, she said that it was going to be essential to the case against Joker if he ever broke out, and she wanted to be prepared. The logic was grounded enough, so she got her blueprints.

Finally, Rachel managed to get back to Arkham and schedule to meet with Joker once more. The secretary didn't even bother to question her reasons for being there. Rachel just signed in and then made her way to the room they would take him to. She was pretty sure the new District Attorney, Harvey Dent, wouldn't like how much time she was spending here, but... Unfortunately, he'd have to deal with it.

As Rachel sat down, the guards led the Joker into the room, his restraints much tighter than they had been before. Rachel wanted to ask, but could only do so much as the prosecuting attorney.

"You may leave now," she said, her voice tight and laced with anger. They made their way out of the room quickly. Rachel stood, walking slightly before pulling out the blueprints, placing them in front of the man. He looked at them for a moment, one eyebrow raised before his tongue came out, licking his lips.

"Yes, and?" he asked. She sat down, pulling the blueprints toward her and then putting them back in the folder.

"You already knew," she accused. He shrugged as well as he was capable, watching her with a slightly annoyed expression.

"Yes, I did," he stated, adding emphasis on the last d of 'did'. She looked down for a moment, thinking before facing him.

"I've been tracking down some of your accomplice-"

"They aren't, Counselor, accomplices," he snapped at her, eyes blazing. Rachel paused for a moment, watching him. "They were my... minions, if you will." A chilling, high-pitch laugh echoed from the room as Joker laughed at the word. A man like him, having accomplices?! Most of those guys couldn't open a door!

"Then your minions," Rachel said, watching him. "Most of them are jailed. I did manage to find two who weren't... They both have connections to the mob though. Are you sure you can trust them?" Joker sighed in mild frustration, rolling his eyes as he leaned forward as far as the restraints would let him.

"Lemme guess which ones you found," he sneered, watching her. "Claire and Alexandria LeSanj." At Rachel's surprised expression, he leaned back, rolling his eyes. "Yes, I trust them, as much as I possibly can. Why?" he asked.

"Because, both of them have charges pending trial. I could try to cut them a deal so that they could help get you out..." Once again, Rachel found herself interrupted. Joker's high-pitch, cruel laugh was what stopped her this time.

"Cut those two a break? They have been in the game since they were kids, Rachel," he sneered. Just the way he said it made shivers go down her spine, both pleasurable, and terrifying. She was addicted to the way he spoke to her... "They won't talk to you, let alone cut any deals."

"They'll talk to me if you tell them to."

Joker pinned her with a look that clearly questioned her intelligence.

"And how am I supposed to do that when I'm locked up in here?" Rachel willed herself not to blush, even as she felt the heat rising to her face.

"I... I haven't thought that far ahead," she admitted. He leaned back, glaring at her.

"Next time, you might want to try."

With that, he stopped talking to her, though he was clearly frustrated. Rachel packed up her things, sighing as she left the room. She closed the door behind her and looked at it for a moment, contemplating how it was she planned on getting the LeSanj sisters' help in freeing him. They were the only ones she could even think of that could possibly help.

Rachel turned around and nearly dropped her briefcase as she practically ran into a pretty blond woman. The woman in front of her wore a professional suit as well, though hers was a dark blue in color as opposed to Rachel's black. She had bright blue eyes behind designer black-framed glasses, and her blond hair was hanging in waves down her back.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Rachel said, watching the woman. She smiled back.

"As am I. I'm Dr. Harleen Quinzel. You just left from seeing my patient. May I ask why?" she said. Rachel immediately went on guard. Not only was this woman gorgeous, but she was competition for Joker's affection. She would probably get to see Joker more than Rachel...

"I'm Rachel Dawes, the Assistant District Attorney for the Joker's grand jury trial. Starting now, I want you to send me all of your reports on his mental state. Also, I want to start limiting the time you're allowed to spend with him each week." Rachel wasn't really that aware of how this would sound, but Harleen's eyes hardened.

"I'm sorry, Counselor, you said you were prosecuting Joker, right? I think that means that you cannot limit how much time I spend with _my_ patient. Not only that, but I don't have to send you my reports or my findings without a judge saying I do. Even if the judge did grant your... useless wish, there's the whole doctor-patient confidentiality thing to try to get around. So, if you'll excuse me, I have a patient to talk to."

With that, Harleen moved by Rachel, hitting her shoulder rather hard as she shoved past and entered the room.

"I think angry looks really good on you, Harleen."

The voice greeted the doctor as soon as she entered the room and she turned blazing blue eyes on the man sitting in the chair. She noticed that his restraints had been doubled to make sure that he didn't launch at her again.

"I just had an interesting run in with the prosecuting attorney for you case," she said, watching him. Instead of answering, Joker looked at her for a minute.

"You remembered to wear your hair down, Harleen. That makes me happy."

Harleen realized talking about Rachel wasn't going to get her anywhere so she took a breath, sat down, and looked at him.

"Why's that?" she asked, watching him. He obviously wanted to keep the focus on her, so she could deal with that... she hoped.

"I also noticed you didn't try to correct me from calling you Harleen."

"Last time, you could have killed me."

"Would have. But I wanted your hair down first."

Harleen and Joker looked at each other for a long moment before Harleen noticed something.

"She left you frustrated," she stated. Joker didn't let anything show on his face, so she wasn't really sure if he was surprised at her assessment or not.

"And...?"

"And she tried to prevent me from seeing you..." Harleen trailed off, looking at the table in front of her thoughtfully. Joker spoke before she could bring her mind back to focus on the interview.

"You didn't bring your papers today. Was it not as important?" he asked.

"I didn't want to pick them all up again. I figured we would try it a different way today."

"Oh, Harleen. You won't learn, will you? What we do in these little... _chats_ of yours are really what... _I_ want to do. And I think it's time that I get some more rest. I am a growing boy after all."

He cackled, leaving Harleen with chills as she called in the guards to take him back to his cell. There was something about him that she wanted to get to the bottom of... But how could she do it...?

A/N: Sorry, ladies and gents. I know it's shorter, but the only thing I really wanted to do this time was just show the beginning tensions between Harleen and Rachel... Also, Harvey is in here... I realize that I've pretty much taken everything that Nolan did and threw it out the window, but... We'll see what happens. Harvey will probably come in next chapter. I'm not sure yet. Also, you'll find out about Claire and Alexandria soon too. They aren't going to have a huge part, so don't worry about that. Peace.


	5. The Girls and the Maniac

A yawn echoed loudly in the empty room as the dark-haired woman looked out the window, an expression of boredom etched on her pale features. She made her way across the room, walking to the window, her black stiletto-heeled boots clicking with each step across the hardwood floor. She ran one pale hand through dark black hair, letting the pencil straight locks fall back down her back.

"Claire, the boss man hasn't contacted us yet," she observed, turning dark blue eyes to the other woman in the room. One bright orange eyebrow came up before mismatched eyes moved to the dark sister. She stood, strappy, orange stiletto heels clicking as she moved to her sister.

"I'm sure he wasn't aware he had to, Lexie," she stated, her identical voice sarcastic as she moved to stand next to her sister. Alexandria looked at her sister, shaking her head before she looked out the window.

"True," she said, her tone thoughtful. "But he usually has some minor chore for us to do... We've been locked up in this hellhole, thanks to that damned District Attorney... You think...?" Alexandria trailed off, turning guarded eyes to her brightly colored twin. Silently, Claire kept her eyes on the scene below, watching the cars drive by as she pushed a stray strand of bright orange hair out of her face.

"It's possible," Claire admitted after a minute. White teeth came to gently bite on her full, deep maroon bottom lip before a grin spread on the dark sister's face.

"We should find out for sure. I'm sure the boss would appreciate an escape effort, don't you?"

"Sometimes, you come up with the most interesting ideas..."

JHRJHRJHRJHRJHRJHRJHRJHR

Two days after the run-in with that little blond bitch, Rachel made her way back to Arkham. Six hours of sleep in two days had paid off; Rachel knew where the LeSanj sisters were. She walked to the main desk, seeing it was a new secretary. No bother. Rachel could get in with this one too. She flashed her ID, about to sign the sheet when the secretary paused.

"Wait, could I see that again?" she asked. Rachel hid her sigh of frustration and passed the woman the ID. The secretary looked at it and then at a piece of paper Rachel couldn't see.

"Who are you here to see?" she asked, forcing Rachel to stand there, seeing as the secretary kept her ID.

"The Joker." This time, Rachel couldn't keep the venom out of her voice. This woman was taking up too much of her time!

"I'm sorry, there's an order for you not to be allowed to see him," she said. Rachel felt her eyes widened and her mouth opened.

"Wha-?! Issued by who?"

"I'm not allowed to disclose that information, Counselor." The secretary passed her ID back.

"I need to see him today," Rachel said. The secretary fixed her with a steady stare.

"I'm sorry, but you'll have to take it up with Dr. Montgomery. I can't allow you access to the Joker until the order is removed," she said. Rachel shifted and then fixed the redhead with a cold stare.

"Then I'm here to see Dr. Montgomery."

"She's not in today. You'll have to come back tomorrow."

One growl of frustration from the ADA and a smirk from the secretary later, and Rachel was stomping out of Arkham with a look that promised retribution. A blond made her way out the door leading to the patients, a smile on her ruby lips.

"Thanks, Pam. I owe you one."

"Don't mention it, Harleen. This makes up for lunch the other day. Speaking of, you hungry?"

JHRJHRJHRJHRJHRJHRJHRJHR

The days passed in what could have been considered a blur. Between meeting with Joker, talking to Bruce, and relaxing with Pam, Harleen was beginning to consider her life worthwhile. She was also beginning to realize that there was something that Bruce Wayne was hiding from her, and she really didn't like it. She called him one night, the same time as always, and was told that he wasn't in. Alfred, his sweet butler, had promised that 'Master Wayne' would get her message and would call her back in the morning. Harleen had stopped waiting for that call after the first hour and a half. That had led to her walking into Joker's appointment angry again, which he couldn't refrain from commenting on. But, that same day... he had done something she hadn't expected.

"Tell me, Joker, is there anything you want to talk about today, or is this just going to be another waste of time like every other meeting we've had," Harleen had snapped. Joker merely watched her, amused, keeping his mouth shut.

"I have a boss breathing down my neck as well as repeated phone calls from your attorney wanting to know why he's not getting any reports on your progress. Also, that ADA keeps trying to come in here. I'm about to have to put a restraining order on a lawyer," she said, trying to regain her temper.

"Now, now, Harley, you really are learning."

It wasn't his tone or his words that stopped her tirade, it was what he called her.

"What did you call me?" she asked, her blue eyes wide with surprise.

"What? Never had a nickname before?"

The sarcasm in the response was ignored as she watched him.

"No, I haven't," she stated, watching him. "No one's ever given me a nickname before."

"Well, _Harley_, now you have one. Since you departed that little piece of, uh... news to me, I suppose I could finally tell you something about me," Joker said, leaning back in his chair comfortably. Over the past weeks, he had grown relaxed around her, no more attempts to strangle her or anything of that nature. That was a good thing, but it also let the guards become more lax with his security, which... could be a bad thing, Harleen had to admit.

"You wanna know how I got these scars?"

Harleen sighed softly, rubbing her forehead. Damn if she hadn't been thrown right back into his game.

"Did your father do it, or did you do it for your wife after, what was it, the mafia got after her?"

"It was the mob, but neither thing happened. Do you want to hear the story or not?"

She had been expecting anger, but Joker was merely amused with her frustration. She sighed again, lifting her hands in the air with the universal sign for giving up before she motioned for him to continue. Joker's eyes narrowed dangerously, though she didn't see it, but he continued nonetheless.

"I was married once. I was a comedian, but I wasn't very good at it, if you can imagine that," he paused to grin at her, but didn't get a response. He glared at her, but continued. "We weren't getting by as well as she would have hoped, and I had a baby on the way. So, I ended up going out to look for some extra work after my show one night."

Harleen looked at him, watching as he licked his lips, leaning forward in his seat once more.

"I was found by a couple of criminals who had come up with some dumb costume and wanted me to go in and rob a factory. I was wondering what they wanted me to take, but they told me I would know when I saw it... They gave me a map of the place and then let me go, putting this, uh, large... bucket on my head. I walked into the factory, found the box I was supposed to steal, and started to walk out. I was caught by the owners of the factory, who were in the mob."

Harleen was enraptured by his tale, though she knew she shouldn't be. She could feel the situation that had led him to turn to crime. He had to care for his wife and unborn child. Harleen tried hard not to let the emotions show on her face as Joker turned his brown eyes to meet her blue ones, keeping his eyes on hers for the remainder of his story.

"I was confused... I tried to explain to them that I was a delivery guy and that someone had told me to pick this up. They asked where my uniform was and I told them that I was working after hours. Then, they asked about the bucket. I wasn't sure what they wanted me to say, so I made something else up. That's the funny thing about lies... They keep coming back. So, I said that I had it on because I had horrible scars. The two men wanted to see, so they knocked me over, pinned me to the ground and pulled the bucket off. They saw I was lying, and I started to laugh. I was hysterical... They were angry I thought it was funny, so one takes out a switchblade, puts it in my mouth, and..." He trailed off, his voice going up slightly on the last word before he slammed his now-free hands on the table, causing Harleen to jump.

"They killed my wife and unborn child, so I killed them."

He laughed, the sound cruel and unnerving as always, but there was something Harleen had noticed. He couldn't say he was scared. He only said he was hysterical and had lied. He couldn't say he was scared, and he didn't say he was upset they killed his wife and child. Hell, he hadn't even said that he cared about his family. He just sought vengeance, which may have been the only way he could have shown he cared...

"Now, Harley, I want you to go away. I think I've said enough for one session."

Harleen nodded absently, standing and walking out of the room, her thoughts distracted.

Joker watched her go, tilting his head slightly as the guards came in. One lifted him, carefully situating his arms in the straight jacket again so that no one questioned them. He let him, turning his eyes to the guard in his right.

"Hey, Sanders... Get word to the girls. Daddy needs a getaway car... for two."


	6. The Maniac and the Captive

That night at Arkham, Joker stood in his cell, waiting. There was a signal, he was sure, but that wasn't what he was waiting for. Sanders, the stupid, dumb oaf, was going to do him a big favor. After all, no use in planning a trip for two if one half of the equation wasn't going to be present, right? He tapped his fingers on his leg, waiting impatiently for the man to come back. Oh, this wasn't going to fly. This was taking entirely too long.

_Note to self: Kill him_.

Finally,the dirty blond surfer-looking guard made his way back to the cell. He turned his head to Joker's cell and gave the Clown Prince of Crime all he needed to know.

"You, Joker! Get away from the doors!"

It was all the signal that the Joker needed. He smirked and reached a hand out through the bars of his door, his muscled forearm just barely squeezing through as he wrapped his hand around Sanders' throat. The guard went with it, reaching up to the door to unlock it. The door swung open and then the Joker stepped out, enclosing his other fist around Sanders' throat as he pulled out the first arm. He let go for a second before looking at the guard thoughtfully. The man opened his mouth to say something, and Joker twisted his hand, pressing down on a pressure point, watching Sanders drop like a ton of bricks. Joker looked up, his eyes finding the security camera. He smirked, opening his mouth...

And laughed.

JHRJHRJHRJHRJHRJHRJHRHR

Harleen looked down at the clock in the lower right-hand corner of her monitor. The mocking little white numbers read 12:38 AM. Great, another all-nighter trying to make sense of what it was that the Joker had told her about his wife and child, as well as trying to type up a report to send it to the Cold Bitch, otherwise known as Dr. Montgomery. She ran one hand down her face, looking at the half-empty, cold cup of coffee that was sitting next to her mouse pad, and debating on whether or not it was worth the trip to the lounge to get another cup...

An explosion ripped through the building, causing Harleen to scream and fall forward at the sheer amount of force that threw her into her desk. She cried out in pain as her stomach hit the desk hard, and as something hit her elbow. She had the sinking sensation that it could be the pair of scissors that had, until that moment been lying on the desk, facing away from her. She winced, looking at the white long sleeve of her blouse, which now had a blossom of bright red.

"Great... an explosion, bruised ribs, bloody elbow, and a stain. Some kind of luck, Harleen..." she muttered to herself, standing up to look behind her, wondering if she could see the damage.

And she definitely could. The back wall of the Asylum was blown apart. Her office had actually been against that same wall, with her back facing that part, and the front of her desk facing the only entrance into her office. If someone planted explosives, it had to be a helluva lucky job, or a lot of talent and time went into it.

"You know, doc, talking to yourself is a sign of insanity."

A rich, sarcastic voice caused Harleen to turn and face the voice at the door. The woman standing there was probably about 5'10" tall, and extremely thin. She had bright orange hair that seemed unnatural, and was made even brighter from her pale skin. She wore an orange dress that stopped about mid-thigh with vertical black stripes and a pair of orange stiletto heeled shoes. What Harleen noticed that caught her attention most was the fact that this woman had mismatched eyes; her right eye blue and her left eye green. Then, Harleen noticed the .45 in her hand, a silencer attached to the end.

"I've been given orders not to hurt you, but if you don't come with me quietly, I have been authorized to kill you," she said, watching. Harleen found her voice, swallowed around the lump in her throat, and managed to speak.

"But... wouldn't that be hurting me?"

"A quick shot through the head, and you won't even know what hit you. I have excellent aim." The woman watched Harleen, who sighed softly and held her elbow, walking toward her.

"Fine," Harleen said softly, her voice showing she had given up. "Fine, I'll come with you, quietly."

"Good. Stand still. I'm going to search you. You will not have your cell phone or anything else that you don't need with you. We'll take care of your personal effects later."

"We?" Harleen winced as the woman's hands roughly searched her abdomen, hitting the bruises that the blow left.

"Sorry. Yes, we. You're clean. Come on. We're heading outside."

Harleen followed the bright woman to a black Escalade parked in front of the asylum. Inside the driver's seat was a woman with pitch black, long straight hair, dark eyes, and similar pale skin as the woman who had searched Harleen. The orange-haired woman made Harleen get into the back seat of the Escalade and climbed in beside her, the gun at her side. The dark woman turned, grinning. Harleen absently noticed that she stood about 5' 8", was thin as the orange-haired woman, and wore a pair of black pants with a black blouse that looped down around her neck. On her head was a hat that reminded Harleen of the ones that jazz artists wore. Also, Harleen realized that the two were sisters, or at least related.

"Claire, she's bleeding."

"I know, Alex," Claire said, reaching into the center console in the front, her gun still aimed at Harleen. She grabbed a roll of medical tape and gauze with a cream of some kind, and passed the gun to her sister. Alex held the gun at Harleen as Claire quickly, methodically, wrapped her elbow, squeezing the cream onto the gauze and carefully wrapping Harleen's elbow.

"There, feel better?" Claire asked, putting the first-aid supplies away and taking the gun back. The way the sisters handled the gun showed Harleen that these were no amateurs.

Before Harleen could answer, the passenger door to the Escalade opened, and a man in a purple suit looked at the two of them.

"Claire..." he said, his voice warning.

"Moving to the front seat, boss. The damage to her elbow was done before I got in the room, same for the bruises on her abdomen," Claire said, shifting out of the car quickly, but managing to keep her dress from revealing too much. In her dazed, shocked state of mind, Harleen was actually surprised at that. If she wore a dress that short and that... tight, anyone could see anything.

"Mm... Is that right, Harleeeeeey?"

He dragged out the last syllable of her name, and Harleen lifted her blue eyes, meeting familiar brown ones. This face was covered in white makeup, dark black circles around his eyes, and red covering his lips and the upward curve of his scars. The purple suit was over a green vest and a blue shirt, and Harleen titled her head slightly, unable to fathom that she was now a kidnapped doctor.

"Give me the cuffs, Alex. I can't have her trying to attack me as we're driving, now can I?"

The dark sister reached down, Harleen assumed to her shoe, and pulled up a pair of silver cuffs. Harleen didn't do anything until the man reached over, grabbing her arm and clicking the first one into place. Then, she began thrashing, screams erupting from her throat.

"No! No, don't do it! Don't put them on!"

"Drive."

The Escalade's engine came to life softly and Alex drove into traffic, ignoring the cop sirens screaming towards Arkham even as Harleen screamed. Tears were streaming down her face, causing her mascara to run, as she turned her teary black eyes to the man sitting next to her.

"Please... please don't..." she begged, her voice raspy and terrified.

"Boss, if she starts screaming again, we're going to have to do something about it," Claire said softly. Joker frowned, shifting the cuffs to click the other one over his wrist.

"There. See, now you can't leave my side. Does that make you feel better, Harley?" Joker asked. Harleen's watery eyes made their way to the cuffs, and moved her arm, watching as his didn't move at all. She got the image of being stuck to a wall, unable to move it or herself. She started sobbing again, the sounds dragged out from her soul as it really kicked in what she was doing. Joker growled before pressing his fingers to the back of her neck. Within moments, Harleen's sobs stopped, and she fell forward, her head dropping onto Joker's lap as she slept.

JHRJHRJHRJHRJHRJHRJHRJHR

"And in other news, an explosion rocketed through Arkham Asylum last night, blowing out the back wall. No reports were made of anyone being injured, though there is a doctor who has been declared missing."

A picture flashed up on the screen of a blond woman wearing black glasses with blue eyes. She wore a white blouse under a black sweater, and that was all one could see of the head shot. A green bar came up on the bottom of the television screen as the volume was turned up.

"Dr. Harleen Quinzel was working late last night when the explosion blew apart part of her office. When police searched the rubble this morning, she was nowhere to be found. There was no one at Dr. Quinzel's home either. If you have any information on Dr. Quinzel's disappearance, please call Gotham Police at..."

The television clicked off as the man sat on the black couch, his bare elbows resting on the knees of his blue jeans, his hands resting in front of his nose.

"I failed her, Alfred..."

"Failed her, Master Wayne? You're not psychic. You cannot predict when a tragedy is going to happen."

"I knew what kind of psychos were around Arkham..."

"Master Wayne, you didn't even know her before Dr. Quinzel was employed at Arkham. There was no way that you could have prevented this."

"Yes. There is. I just don't know how."

Alfred merely took Bruce's cup and walked out of the room, feeling sorry for both this young man and the poor young woman who was taken.

JHRJHRJHRJHRJHRJHRJHRHR

Harleen groaned as she felt herself slipping back into consciousness, gasping at the pain in her abdomen. The bruises were still tender, but she could concentrate, and whatever the sisters did to her elbow, it really stopped the stinging. She opened her eyes, blinking to clear away the sleepy fog, and then to get adjusted to the light. She looked around, moving to sit more comfortably, only to find that she was stuck. Her hands weren't cuffed anymore, but there was a soft, smooth cloth around her wrists, tied tightly and holding her to a post. Blue eyes widened and pupils dilated in fear.

"Ahh... Now _there's_ an expression I'm familiar with..."

The voice was vaguely familiar to her, but her exhausted and terrified brain couldn't register who it was. A face appeared in her vision, getting pretty close to her, almost nose to nose. White and black greasepaint blurred together with a touch of red, making Harleen wonder if she was in some messed up version of Schindler's List, what with the black and white and the little girl in the red coat.

"Ah, ah... Stay with me, Harley," he stated, voice mocking and teasing. A creak made Harleen jump and she whimpered, trying to tug her arms free.

"Boss, sorry to interrupt, but we've got a visual you might wanna see," said a voice. It also sounded familiar. There was a flash of black from a tall woman, but she couldn't register who it was or even what the words really were. The person in front of her, this Boss character, growled low and stood, turning to face the woman.

"Fine."

With that, he walked out, slamming a door, which left a chilling echo in the room that made Harleen finally do what she wanted to do since she woke up:

She cried.


	7. The Clown and the Cop

"What?"

Joker snapped at Alexandria, long strides matching hers as they went to the monitoring room that had been set up. After all, now that the cops knew where Joker's hideout was, he needed a new one. The LeSanj home seemed to be good enough, for now.

"GCN has already started covering the story of your escape. They haven't mentioned you're missing, but they have said that the doc in there is gone. Chances are, Gordon's pulling the strings on this one," she said, dropping into the swivel chair. She had taken off the knee-high stiletto boots and pulled her feet up under her to get comfortable.

"Good..." he muttered, sitting in another chair.

"Also, Claire went to the doc's home to get her things. Should be back soon-"

Alexandria was interrupted as something beeped on the computer screen in front of her. She frowned, clicking on it, opening live feed of Gotham City News.

"We're here live with Gotham Police Commissioner, Jim Gordon. Commissioner, is it true that Dr. Harleen Quinzel may have had something to do with the explosion at Arkham?" the reporter asked. The older man in glasses turned his eyes to the reporter.

"As of so far, we don't know. It looks like she's a victim of this crime instead of a suspect. Gotham PD will be investigating all leads as we get them."

The jabber between the reporters talking to Commissioner Gordon kept going, but Alexandria turned down the volume, making the entire thing only background noise. Joker looked thoughtfully at the security footage of the doctor tied up. She was in a queen-sized bed, wearing the same clothes she had been when he picked her up, tied to the posts with silk cloth. She was only tied up because Joker didn't know what it was he wanted to do with her yet.

"Hmm... Go make sure the good doctor is comfortable," he said, standing and grinning slightly. "When Claire gets back, we have a little... gift for the good citizens of Gotham..."

JHRJHRJHRJHRJHRJHRJHRJHR

Every television station in Gotham would suddenly flash over to Gotham City News. A man was sitting at the anchor's desk, wearing a gray suit with a dark blue tie. He held papers in his hands and a serious expression on his face.

"This is Jeremy Patrick for Gotham City News Alert. This just in, a videotape has been broadcast to Gotham City News, and we are playing it for you now..."

He stopped talking and the entire screen would be covered by another image. The entire screen was filled with the image of a white wall, red markings splattered all over it, like paint flung from a paintbrush onto the wall. There was a hardwood floor with identical markings.

From the left side of the screen, a man entered the frame. He was tall, wearing a pair of shiny black dress shoes, and a pair of blue pants with a red stripe up the side. He faced the screen, snapping to a salute, his head down. He wore a black jacket, red seams on the shoulder straps, collar, and straight down the middle. On the left side of the red line down the middle were gold buttons going all the way down to the bottom of the jacket. Around his waist was a thick white belt with a silver buckle with the symbol for the United States Marine Corps. There were two similar symbols in gold on the collar, and two golden-yellow patches on his arms, one on each arm. Over his heart were ribbons and medals. The white hat on his head, with the black visor and golden eagle, successfully hid his identity. The entire uniform was splattered with the red substance, making it a macabre and horrifying mockery of the Dress Blues the Marine Corps wore. He snapped his arm down and then raised his head.

"Hello, Gotham."

The Joker's chilling voice echoed into the camera, his freshly applied greasepaint bright and vivid as ever as he leaned into the screen, reaching up to grab the black visor of the hat on his head and throwing it up in the air as he danced around the room to music that could not be heard. His hair, the acid green that had been fading, was still as stringy as before, but seemed to be a more vivid and vibrant green. He grabbed the video camera, giggling into it as he let the screen zoom in on his face.

"Now, you didn't really think your precious... asylum could keep me locked up, did you?" More cackling as he allowed the citizens watching time to react to his question. "Of course you did! It's what you do. Oh, and I heard about poor Dr. Harleen Quinzel... Such a shame really... So! I'm going to do you a favor, Gotham! I'll give you a week! You have a week to try to find me. If you can find me, I'll let you know where I've stashed your precious doctor, and you'll be able to... cure the insanity. If you can't find her for in a week..."

He trailed off, the smile growing, the scars on his face growing even more, practically touching his ears.

"Then she's all mine. Let the games begin."

The screen faded to black before flickering back on.

"Oh, and I almost forgot. Counselor... You have three days before I turn down your... offer. That means you have three days to find me before I end your life. Look fast."

His laughter echoed through the television lines even after the camera went to black again.

JHRJHRJHRJHRJHRJHRJHRJHR

"_... three days to find me before I end your life. Look fast."_

Commissioner Gordon glared at the screen as he turned it off, turning to face the other men and women in the Major Case Unit who were standing around, looking at the television with expressions that ranged from horror, anger, rage, sorrow, and disgust. Gordon himself wore one of outrage and disgust.

"Alright, listen up. We've got two people to worry about that have been mentioned directly. Our number one priority is Dr. Quinzel, since we know she's a target. I'll be heading the search for Dr. Quinzel. Owens, I want you to pick five people and you'll start trying to figure out who the Counselor is that he mentioned. Get every lawyer in Gotham together if you have to. Find out. Also, we have to try to figure out what it is that he was trying to tell us with that uniform on."

"Commissioner, what if he was just wearing it to wear it?"

The voice from the back of the room caused several of the seasoned detectives who had dealt with the Joker before to turn rapidly. A woman stood there, approximately five feet, three inches. She had auburn hair and hazel eyes, and looked at the people staring at her.

"What? It was a valid question."

"Detective, why would you think that?" Gordon asked, looking at her over his glasses. The woman gave a shrug, keeping her eyes on him.

"Well, what do we really know about him? No one can get a clear psychological profile on him, so we don't know if he just wants to wear it, or if he's actually targeting someone and giving us advance warning," she explained.

"Exactly. We need to be ready in case he is going to attack someone or somewhere. So, you'll be joining the team in clearing out any and all Armed Forces offices in Gotham. Johnson, you're leading the team. Get to it. Put them somewhere else, send them home, whatever it takes."

JHRJHRJHRJHRJHRJHRJHRJHR

A shrill, high-pitch ringing echoed in the metal room. He frowned, pulling his head out from underneath the vehicle, reaching to grab the towel, rubbing the grease off his hands before grabbing the cellphone that was ringing.

"Yeah?"

"Master Wayne, Gotham City News just got a video from the Joker."

Bruce swore under his breath.

"Can you send it to me, Alfred? Straight to my phone."

"At once, sir."

A moment later, Bruce was watching the video on the phone. He swore again, closing the application, putting the video out of his sight, but definitely not out of mind.

"What are you going to do, sir?"

Bruce had almost forgotten that Alfred was still on the phone. He ran on hand down his face, thinking it over.

"I'll go tonight and see what Gordon and his men are doing. I'll need to figure out who this 'Counselor' is and what Joker means by that... Most important is Harleen. I don't think he's going to attack anything to do with the Marines, that he was just wearing it to make his comeback," he trailed off, looking at the car in front of him, sighing in frustration.

"Guess I'll have to finish the car later."

"Yes, sir. You will."

JHRJHRJHRJHRJHRJHRJHRJHR

The door below them slammed shut and a thud was heard. Harleen whimpered softly, still tugging at the binds that held her tied to the bedposts. She could hear clicks, like heels hitting floors, and it echoed across the entire house. This place, her prison, had some pretty amazing acoustics. Harleen sat up straighter, reaching her neck up again, trying to reach the end of the silk restraint. She couldn't reach it, it was just out of her reach. She groaned, sinking back against the headboard, her fear-ridden brain trying to figure out a way out of this situation.

She heard a voice outside the door and couldn't make out what was being said, or even who was saying it. A hand was on the doorknob, and it opened a moment later, revealing the sisters she saw earlier, the two polar opposites of bright orange and dark black. The orange one was holding a familiar looking red and black duffel that Harleen finally recognized as her own. The dark one had a long bag in her arms, watching Harleen. They moved aside, allowing Joker in. Harleen took one look at his outfit, the bloody Dress Blues of the Marine Corps, and could have sworn she was slipping into madness. She started to giggle. It was slow at first, but it kept building and building. She would have put her hand over her mouth, and even moved to do so, but the bindings held her arms in place. Joker grinned cheekily.

"You like it, doc? I do too. All girls love a man in uniform."

The twins exchanged a long suffering look, shaking their heads and looking back at her. Harleen managed to stop her giggling, looking at them in mild confusion as the mirth faded.

"Will you untie me, please?"

Her voice came out a whisper, a plea, and she hated it. She was stronger than this! Joker raised an eyebrow, walking to her, dropping onto the bed and getting almost nose-to-nose with her faster than she even saw him walk to the bed.

"Awww, poor Harley, all afraid of being tied up. I would, but I don't think it's a good... idea for you to be able to run around the house. If you promise to stay in this room like a good girl, I'll untie you."

His tone of voice was mocking, but Harleen could tell he actually meant it. She nodded quickly, swallowing around the lump in her throat.

"I'll stay in here. Just... please..."

Joker watched her, shrugging and nodding. He reached up, tugging on one end of the bindings on both her wrists, allowing the purple silk to fall over Harleen. She dropped her arms, sighing softly in relief as the fear started to recede and the blood moved back to her arms. Joker said nothing before grabbing the glass of water Harleen had never seen next to the bed and passing it to her. She took it, managing to grasp it in numb hands and took a few sips before she gulped it down, unaware she had even been so thirsty.

"Hn. Claire, give her the clothes. Alexandria, hang that up."

The twins moved, Claire passing Harleen the duffel bag, and Alexandria walking toward the closet. Joker stood, stretching out as he did, looking at Harleen.

"Now, Harley. The room has practically nothing as far as your... entertainment goes. Claire here was nice enough to pick up some of your books from your apartment. Say thank you."

"Thanks..." Harleen whispered. Claire gave a slight shrug of her shoulders as she put the bag on the bed, and started out the door. Harleen absently noticed it was her that was clicking, her heels hitting the floor.

"And I had Alexandria pick up something for you. If you touch that closet, Harley, I will break every single one of your fingers, starting at your first knuckle until every bone in your hands is broken." Harleen's arms moved instinctively, moving to keep her hands close to her, as though she could stop him from doing what he threatened. Joker grinned at that and then walked toward the door.

"I'll have someone bring you food in a little while... Have fun, Harley. Maybe we'll chat some more."

Harleen could have sworn that the door slamming, leaving her in the room, was the door to the rest of her life, closing and telling her she wasn't going anywhere.

AN: So, there it is. It took a while on this one... I was stuck. Thanks to Haven for helping me out. Peeps, I'd appreciate a few reviews, if ya could. Anywho. Adios.


	8. The Cop and the Bat

Gordon was sitting behind his desk in the empty Major Case Squad Room. After the Joker's episode with blowing up the precinct, some of the nicer Gotham construction workers had agreed to work overtime in order to get them a newer and better squad room. Gordon was grateful, but he had liked his old desk much better. He was poured over the papers in front of him, various indictments against Joker, the location of several Marine recruiting stations in Gotham, and log sheets for all the guests who had been to Arkham since Joker was incarcerated. There were too many people, too much for him to look at alone. Barbara had called him at least ten times, but he hadn't answered. He needed to call her back...

"What've you got?"

The deep, gravelly voice made Gordon jump slightly, his cop instincts sending his had to his hip, where his police issue Glock wasn't currently resting. Instead, it was in his desk drawer, where he kept it when he was in the office. He looked at the tall man in all black standing in front him, biting back the urge to yell.

"Why can't you call, like a normal person?" he snapped. As Batman stared at him, he realized the sheer ridiculousness of his question and sighed, leaning back and taking off his glasses to rub his eyes.

"We cleared out the Marine recruiting stations in Gotham, we're running through a list of the lawyers involved in Joker's case, and we're in the process of trying to figure out what it is that the Joker could want with Dr. Quinzel."

"She was his doctor at Arkham," Batman said. Gordon raised an eyebrow, looking at him thoughtfully.

"Why not just kill her like the others then?"

"Chances are, he saw something in her he liked, or he just wanted to rile us up. We don't even know if she's already dead and he's just playing games."

Gordon nodded slowly, thinking over the information he just gathered. He looked wearily at the caped man in front of him.

"You know no one's going to be happy when they hear you're in on this," he said.

"Then don't let them find out."

Gordon snorted his disdain and looked back at the papers on his desk. Instead of opening his mouth to make another comment, he just glanced up. Sure enough, the masked man was already gone.

_I hate it when he does that._

JHRJHRJHRJHRJHRJHRJHRJHR

Rachel was pouring over documents as well, but not the same kind Gordon was. Since she had been denied access to Joker at Arkham, she had been busy trying to get in contact with the LeSanj sisters. A knock on her door caused her to look up, blinking in confusion when she saw the blond head of the new District Attorney.

"Harvey? What's up?" she asked. An incredulous expression on the man's face was all she really needed.

"You haven't been watching the news? Rachel, Joker's escaped from Arkham. A doctor went missing too, and he left a message on the news for someone," he said. Rachel felt her heart race and surprise registered on her face. Luckily, it was genuine.

"What'd it say?" she asked, her voice betraying some emotion. Harvey must have took it for determination to catch Joker, because he came in and sat across from her.

"Basically, that someone had three days to find him before he killed them. He didn't give a name, just 'Counselor'. MCU is all over us, convinced it's someone connected to the case," he said. He stretched out, rolling his neck in a circle. Rachel heard it pop in several places and sighed, leaning back.

"That means you, me, half of the District Attorney's office, all of his previous defense lawyers..." She listed them off, but she knew exactly who it was he was talking about. That message was meant for her. Since she was sure she had the location of the LeSanj sisters, she was sure she could get to him... But it was a matter of when. She'd have to get to him soon, seeing as she didn't have much time. It wasn't even a matter of getting to the LeSanj sisters as much as making sure she could actually get to Joker...

"Yeah, but Gordon's got the log for visitors since Joker's incarceration. Maybe he can pull something from that in the next two days..."

"Wait, two?"

"Rachel, we have to give MCU a chance to find and protect the lawyer in question," Harvey said, watching her closely. "Are you alright? You look a little pale." Rachel sighed softly, waving her hand at him before pushing it through her hair.

"Just stressed. I haven't been sleeping a lot," she admitted. Harvey gave her a smile, putting one hand on hers, the one still on the desk.

"Go home, get some rest. I'll call you when we know something," he said. His thumb tenderly caressed her skin, and she couldn't help but want to pull her hand away. He wasn't a bad guy, Harvey, and that was part of the problem. He was so... nice. Rachel wasn't even sure when she started wanting the bad guys, but her infatuation with the Joker was really messing with her morals. She pulled her hand away slowly, making sure the gesture wasn't rude or disgusted.

"Yeah, I guess you're right. I'll talk to you later then," she said, watching as he stood and made his way out of her office. She gathered up the files and information she had gathered and then put it in her briefcase. She stood, turned off the light, and made her way home, smiling slightly. Now, she had plenty of time to work on finding out where her man was...

JHRJHRJHRJHRJHRJHRJHRJHR

There were certain things in life that were true, no matter how much you didn't want them to be. For example, fire hurts when it touches your skin and starts to blister, pale people should wear sunscreen when they go to the beach, and redheads have bad tempers.

Pam was furious. She had seen the video the Joker gave and had immediately flown back to Gotham. She had been out of town for the business meeting with the men in charge of paying her, and ended up catching a red-eye flight, getting back to Gotham twenty-four hours before she originally planned to be. From there, she had taken a five minute shower in her home and taken off to the police station, demanding to know who was in charge. Within fifteen minutes, Pam found herself sitting in Police Commissioner Jim Gordon's office, sitting with a cup of coffee she wouldn't touch and Gordon sweating under the collar on the other side of the desk.

"Miss Isley, I understand that you're upset-"

"You don't understand anything, Commissioner," Pam interrupted, her voice as cold as her eyes. "If you understood what Harleen went through as a child, you'd move a little faster. I think it would be best if you kept me informed on anything you found out about where she is." With that, Pam stood, walking out and slamming the door on her way out, the vibration causing the untouched cup of coffee to spill on Gordon's desk. The coolness in Pam's eyes heated as she heard the loud string of curses erupting from him.

_Serves you right, you pompous ass_, she thought, grinning and exiting the station. She had no idea what it was she was going to do now, but she may have to employ some other help... She paused at the corner, looking left and write before jogging across the intersection, sighing in resignation at what she had to do. There was only one person she could think of to turn to, even if she didn't want to.

One hand came up as Pam hailed a taxi. The redhead never had a problem with the Gotham taxi drivers stopping for her. As one stopped, she climbed in the back, buckling up and meeting the driver's eyes in the rear view mirror.

"Wayne Enterprises, please."

JHRJHRJHRJHRJHRJHRJHRJHR

Harleen had been locked in this room, but she found it wasn't _too_ horrible. Yeah, there wasn't a window and she was locked in, but the bed was comfortable (now that she wasn't tied to it), she had a bathroom with a shower, and she had her clothes. After Claire had dropped the duffel off, Harleen had gone through it, seeing what of her outfits the orange woman had picked. Harleen had to admit that Claire had good taste. Not only had she avoided the dress wear that Harleen wore to work, she also managed to make each outfit match, also offering Harleen a few pairs of shoes and some accessories. The doctor had cleared out the bag, putting things away in the room that she had a feeling she was going to become a lot more familiar with in the next few days. About that time, Harleen's elbow started to sting and ache. She gave up, leaving the rest of the stuff in her open duffel and sitting on the bed, sighing and trying to pull her hair up with one hand. That proved impossible, so she waited, thinking over what to do with her elbow.

About the time she decided that a bobby pin and a loose thread from her shirt should do as far as sewing it up went, the lock in the door clicked open. Harleen blinked, lifting her head as bright blue eyes met dark, amused eyes.

"Trust me, a bobby pin is a poor substitute for a needle," Alexandria said, smiling almost kindly at Harleen. Harleen turned a faint pink and hid the bobby pin back in her hair, trying to act as though the idea never even came up. Alexandria laughed softly, moving into the room.

"Joker's coming in soon to make sure you're alright. He made me come in to make sure you were decent and comfortable..." she trailed off, looking at the duffel bag before back at Harleen. "You want me to put the rest of that away?"

"Please?"

Alexandria smiled at the woman and nodded, bending to scoop up the duffel and walking to the dresser, sliding the folded articles in the appropriate drawer.

"Claire is your sister, right?" Harleen asked after a moment. Alexandria paused, turning to look at Harleen and nodding.

"Yeah. My older twin by twenty-seven minutes," she said. Her hands continued moving and the silence between them grew.

"You two are so different. You... you're darker. Your colors, I mean," Harleen said. Alexandria smiled and closed the drawer she was filling before working on the next one.

"Claire was born with bright red hair, and she decided she wanted it brighter. Mom helped her dye it bright orange. As for me, I favor my dad as far as looks go. He was a really dark guy too," she said. Harleen nodded, shifting slightly.

"How do the two of you know Joker?"

Part of it was natural curiosity, but most of it was a desire to get to know more about the man she was supposed to have been evaluating as a doctor, not as a kidnapped victim. Alexandria stood, picking up the now empty duffel bag and the couple of jackets and hoodies that Claire had picked up from Harleen's apartment. She stayed silent, moving to the closet before sliding the mirrored doors open and speaking.

"Our father was one of the huge mob bosses here a few years ago. Ever since we were infants, we've been learning the mob and criminal ways. Well, the cops caught onto dad and managed to catch him and mom. They're still in prison, but Claire and I took over the mob. Joker came into town and politely-" here, she snorted in amusement- "told us that our mob was either going to work with him, or going to perish. A few people decided it against it while we were still in the negotiation period and we got a nice present from him because of their disagreement..."

Harleen watched Alexandria as she spoke, watching her carefully hang up the clothes. Once she was finished, she put the duffel on the top shelf and then closed the doors, standing in front of the mirror and meeting Harleen's eyes.

"We decided it was a good idea to stick with him. By the way, the house you're in now is only a temporary site. We're going to moving again in a few days, at which time, you're going to have to pack everything back up – without looking at that bag hanging in your closet – and we'll move to another place. This place is too obvious."

Alexandria didn't bother to say anything else, making her way to the door and opening it. She leaned on the frame, almost lazily, but Harleen was sure that she was more than ready to spring if Harleen made a run for it.

"Joker. She's decent."

"Took you long enough. Did you have to help her get dressed?" A sarcasticallly harsh voice drifted up to the room, making Harleen believe she was on the second floor. Joker entered the door frame a moment later, a first-aid kit in his hands. Alexandria rolled her eyes, waiting until Joker entered the room to close the door and make her exit.

"So! How's the elbow, Harley?"

Joker's voice was a happy drawl as he dropped next to her on the bed. She instinctively moved over to allow him more room, holding up her stinging elbow to show him. He made a noise of disapproval.

"Looks like it cut you pretty good, Harley. How about I sew it up?"

Harleen wasn't afraid of needles, but the idea of Joker sewing up her elbow made her a little cautious.

"Is... is it going to hurt?" she asked. He gave her a look and then touched it with his nail. She gasped in surprise and pain.

"Did that hurt?" he asked, mockingly. She glared at him, her blue eyes watery from the sudden, stinging pain he induced, but didn't answer. He sighed.

"Fine, I'll numb it, you big baby." With that, he opened the first-aid kit, pulling out a syringe and pulling the cap off the tip. He inserted it in her skin, ignoring Harleen's soft whimper, before injecting the area with the liquid. He held a tissue over the spot as he pulled the syringe out. Harleen watched as he went about re-sterilizing the needle as her elbow went numb.

"There. Now time to sew her up!"

Harleen watched with detached interest as he moved the needle back and forth, carefully stitching her elbow closed after he cleaned the wound.

"Where did you learn that?" she asked, raising her eyes to watch his face. He didn't pause, but didn't lift his eyes either.

"Where do most people learn? I had to teach myself when I got my scars," he said, his brow furrowed with concentration. Harleen nodded absently, watching him.

"Why can't I look in the bag?"

This time, Joker did look up, a grin on his face that was a strange cross between boyish mischievous and sadistic pleasure.

"Because I told you not to. Are you thinking about looking?"

"No... I was just wondering why the secrecy over a bag," she stated. Joker snorted as though he didn't believe her and stopped, carefully wiping the needle down and looking at her.

"Don't do anything crazy with your elbow, and don't get the stitches wet and you should be fine. Then again, if you want to do it all over again, you can pull them out... But I'm not numbing you next time," he said, watching her. Harleen met his gaze, shuddered, and then tore her gaze away. Joker merely grinned before speaking again.

"Also, I think you should put on something else. Change your clothes and get downstairs in a half hour. Claire has some kind of pasta concoction she's making, and she'd be insulted if you missed it," he stated. He started out the door, and Harleen listened for the click of a lock. She breathed a sigh of relief when she heard him walk off, and the lock didn't click. However, she stood up and moved to the dresser, finding a pair of jeans and one of her favorite t-shirts and began the interesting task of getting dressed without doing 'anything crazy with her elbow'.

Harleen found that things were even stranger at dinner. It was rather tense, actually, which surprised the doctor. She sat across from Joker at the table, Claire to her left and Alexandria to her left. The twins seemed to not care about the tension and talked to each other as they ate the pasta Claire had made. Harleen ate in silence, carefully avoiding bumping her elbow or even using it if she could help it. Joker just stared at his plate, bumping the spiraled noodles around his plate with his fork. A foot touched Harleen's leg and she jumped, knees hitting the table, causing the plates on the table to jump. Joker stared at her, Claire grinned, and Alexandria struggled not to laugh out loud.

"Problems, Harley?" Joker drawled, watching her closely. She turned a faint red under his scrutiny, and Claire took a drink of her water. Harleen shifted, shaking her head before she speared another noodle on her fork and tried to forget the event ever happened. However, a moment later, she felt it again, the foot moving on her knee. She didn't jump this time, just dropped her fork and squeaked softly in surprise. Joker raised an eyebrow and both Claire and Alexandria laughed aloud.

"Stop!" Harleen objected, looking at the twins. It had to be one of them, seeing as Joker seemed completely oblivious to whatever was going on. The twins looked at each other and Claire finally sighed.

"Fine, fine. You pansy," she muttered, taking another forkful of food and chewing it, winking at Harleen. Alexandria stood, taking her plate and grabbing Harleen's empty plate.

"Welcome to the family, doc."


End file.
